


I Saw Her Standing There

by SunriseRose1023



Series: #HellatusCompetition 2015 [2]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: F/M, Family Drama, First Love, Gen, Minor Injuries, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Supernatural Elements
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-07-04
Updated: 2015-07-04
Packaged: 2018-04-07 14:10:42
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 11,588
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4266204
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SunriseRose1023/pseuds/SunriseRose1023
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"Well, she looked at me,<br/>And I could see<br/>That before too long<br/>I'd fall in love with her."<br/>("I Saw Her Standing There," by The Beatles)</p>
<p>In 1972, fresh out of the military, John Winchester is looking for a fresh start. He finds it in Lawrence, Kansas. </p>
<p>In 1972, Mary Campbell is desperate for a way out. Out from under the threat of the "family business," or maybe even out of Lawrence altogether. </p>
<p>A chance meeting in a mechanic shop changes the course of both of their lives forever. Mary immediately dislikes the new-in-town stranger, and as much as he's intrigued by the prickly beauty, John determines to keep his distance. </p>
<p>Funny how Fate has other ideas.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. First Time Ever I Saw Your Face

**Author's Note:**

> Round 2 of the #Hellatus Competition was to write about an OTP. As much as I adore reading about Wincest and Destiel, I just can't bring myself to publish anything along those lines. I'm too scared of the blowback I might receive. Therefore, I went for my favorite hetero OTP. John and Mary Winchester.

1972 was an important year. It was the year he started over. He’d served his country as a decorated Marine, until a bullet wound ended his military career. He’d come home in time to see his mother one last time, kissing her goodbye and holding her hand as cancer took away the one human he’d ever let himself love.

With nothing holding him in Illinois anymore, he sold his mother’s house and bought a motorcycle, because why the hell not? And when a friend of his mother’s told him of a place in Kansas that was looking for a good mechanic, he threw his olive green Army bag on the back of the bike and headed out.

Because, if nothing else, John Winchester was a damn good mechanic.

It wasn’t a long ride. John enjoyed traveling, feeling more at home on the open road than anywhere else. With his dog tags resting over his heart, nothing made him feel quite as calm as the wind in his hair and the feel of the motorcycle’s power beneath his hands. The phantom itch that had appeared under his skin as soon as he’d stepped foot in Normal was lessening with every mile the bike ate up. He'd left early in the morning, stopping just outside of town at a diner to grab some breakfast and a cup of coffee. A deep affection for coffee is just one of the many things John picked up during his tour in the Marines. He stopped a couple more times, to stretch his legs and grab another cup of coffee.

He arrived in Lawrence just after lunchtime. He parked his bike, taking a minute to stretch his legs again, straightening his leather jacket and smoothing down his hair before he walked into the office.

Right into the middle of a conversation.

“… this horrible grinding sound. Dad thinks it’s … a belt or something. He swore he could fix it, but I can’t get it home. It’s a miracle I got it here.”

John watched the girl with her back to him, her long blonde hair pulled back in a ponytail, flowy bright green shirt over her bell-bottomed pants. The girl behind the counter had curly brown hair, half of it pulled back and she wore a denim dress. She nodded at the other girl.

“Well, Dad’s gone to lunch right now, but he can take a look at it when he gets back.”  
“I could take a look.”

The girl turned around so fast her ponytail flew over her shoulder. Green eyes were wide as she took him in, and John couldn’t help but think, _God, she’s pretty._ She blinked at him, one slender eyebrow raising as she crossed her arms over her chest.

“Who are you?”

He took a few steps forward, holding out a hand.

“John Winchester.”

She looked down at his hand, then back up to his face, keeping her arms securely crossed over her chest. After a moment, John nodded slowly, letting his hand fall. He glanced to the other girl, who gave him a warm smile.

“Hi. I’m Linda Conner. My dad owns this place.”

John stepped up closer to the desk, shaking her hand.

“Roger Matthews sent me from Illinois. Said your dad was looking for a mechanic?”

Linda’s face lit up.

“He is. I’m sure he’ll be glad to talk to you, when he gets back from lunch.”

John nodded, turning back to the other girl, who rolled her eyes as she looked away. John pursed his lips, looking back to Linda, who huffed out a breath.

“This is Mary. She’s not exactly the most sociable person.”  
“Linda!”

Linda shrugged her shoulders, walking around the counter and looping her arm through John’s. John smiled, following along with Linda’s footsteps. They stopped at the front window of the shop and Linda nodded out.

“That’s Mary’s dad’s. It’s on its last leg, and now makes a terrible noise.”

John nodded as he looked at the old Ford truck.

“I wouldn’t mind taking a look. Grinding noise usually means a brake issue.”

Mary just stood there, keeping her arms crossed over her chest and raising her eyebrow again. Linda sighed.

“Mare, hand me the keys?”  
“Dad would prefer your dad to look at it.”  
“Well, Dad’s not here. And John is. We can pretend this is part of the job interview. I’m sure Dad will check behind him anyway.”

Mary looked away, and John shook his head.

“Don’t worry about it. I was trying to do you a favor, but you clearly don’t want my help.”  
“What gave that away?”

John blinked, letting out a quiet laugh. He turned to Linda, giving her a smile, one he had perfected over his twenty years on the Earth. Women everywhere suddenly softened, smiling back at him, giving him whatever he asked for.

“I think I’ll wait outside. Would you let me know when your dad gets back?”

Linda’s dark eyes went soft, and she smiled, nodding her head.

“Absolutely.”

John gave her a wink, turning to walk out the door. Linda followed a few steps behind him, speaking up when he reached the door.

“I apologize for Mary. She’s usually a little more … nice.”

John glanced over his shoulder.

“Don’t apologize for her, darlin’. It’s her problem, not yours.”

John looked past Linda, locking eyes with Mary, seeing her eyes widen, a flash of hurt appearing for just a second before she looked away. John shook his head, letting the door close behind him as he walked to lean up against his bike. He pulled his emptying pack of cigarettes out of his pocket, tapping one out and lighting it up, taking in a deep lungful of the acrid smoke, holding it there for just a moment before exhaling, watching the smoke drift away, deliberately not thinking about the prickly blonde inside the office.

* * *

 

Mary Campbell let out a sigh as she walked into her house. Her father came around the corner, setting his hands on his hips.

“What’s the verdict?”

Mary set her purse down, lifting a hand to tuck her hair behind her ear, making the charms on her bracelet clink together.

“The brakes.”

Samuel sighed, shaking his head.

“Damn it.”  
“Mr. Conner’s pretty sure he can have it running next week.”  
“Next week? We’re supposed to be heading to Topeka tomorrow.”

Mary shrugged her shoulders.

“Guess we have to push the trip back.”

Samuel let out a laugh.

“Oh, sure. Let me make a call real quick, make sure the vampires know to lay low for another week before we can get there.”

Samuel shook his head, and Mary sighed.

“We’re not the only hunters in the area, Dad. Isn’t Uncle James near Topeka?”  
“James is busy with a black dog up in Vermont.”  
“Well, there should be someone else.”  
“We don’t hand off jobs to ‘someone else,’ Mary.”

She stopped on the stairs, whirling around to face him.

“We’re not handing off a job, Dad! It’s not like we want to take a vacation or something. We physically cannot get there.”  
“We’ll find a way.”

Mary closed her eyes, blowing out her breath. Samuel walked to the bottom of the stairs.

“What’s up with you? Why are you acting like you don’t want to do this?”  
“Because I don’t want to do this.”

Samuel straightened to his full height.

“Mary Elizabeth Campbell, I know I didn’t just hear those words come out of your mouth.”

Mary bit her tongue, as hard as she could, until she tasted blood. She turned around, slowly making her way up the stairs. After a moment, three steps up for Mary, Samuel spoke again.

“Pack a bag. We’ll have to adjust the schedule and leave in the morning.”

Mary didn’t acknowledge him, just finished her walk up the stairs, going into her bedroom and closing the door behind her, falling face-down on the bed. She buried her face in a pillow, doing her best not to scream, constantly talking herself out of trying to smother herself.

“Smothering yourself won’t do any good, you know that.”

Mary lifted her head, letting out a sigh. She glanced over, seeing her mother standing at the door, a smile on her face.

“Why is he always like this? Why does it matter if I don’t want to go along? It’s not like he needs me. The man’s a hunting machine.”  
“This is his way of bonding with you, honey.”

Mary let out a laugh, standing to her feet.

“He couldn’t coach a softball team or take me to ballet lessons. No, he had to teach me how to kill a wendigo and the correct Latin pronunciations for an exorcism.”

Mary shook her head, turning around and facing her mother. Deanna took in a breath, stepping forward, crossing her arms over her chest.

“If there is one thing I know, after twenty-three years of marriage, is that Samuel Winchester is one stubborn man. And somehow, I managed to raise a daughter that is the spitting image of him.”

Deanna shook her head, and Mary set her hands on her hips, hanging her head and exhaling.

“There’s a bonfire this weekend. Out at the Whitmore farm.”

Deanna smiled.

“I knew it was something.”  
“I haven’t been to anything, Mom. Nothing in my entire high school career. This is my last shot. My last chance to be a normal kid.”

Deanna reached out, touching Mary’s blonde bangs.

“But you’re not a normal kid.”

Mary moved out of her mother’s reach, blowing out a breath. Deanna sighed.

“Isn’t that what your father’s been telling you—“  
“My entire life. ‘I’m not normal. Innocent lives are depending on me. This is the family business that I am supposed to continue.’”

Mary crossed her arms over her chest, shaking her head as she looked out the window.

“He never asks me if I _want_ to go. He just tells me to pack a bag. I am seventeen years old and I’ve never been able to decide one thing for myself.”

Deanna sighed, watching her daughter. She’d known this conversation was coming for a long time. She nodded her head, then stepped over, laying her hands on Mary’s shoulders.

“I’ll talk to your father.”

Mary turned around, green eyes wide and full of hope.

“Really?”  
“I can’t make any promises, but …”

Mary threw her arms around her mother, hugging her tightly.

“Thank you.”

Deanna pressed a kiss to Mary’s temple, patting her back before she left the room.


	2. She's Sun and Rain, She's Fire and Ice

Bob Conner walked up behind John, laughing quietly and slapping him on the back.

“Beautiful job, son. You sure do know your way around a vehicle.”   
“Thank you, sir.”

John picked up a rag, rubbing hard to get the engine grease off his hands. Bob peeked over the side of the car, nodding as he looked over the engine. John climbed into the driver’s seat of the old truck, starting the engine. He and Bob both smiled when the truck grumbled to life, sounding smoother than she ever had.

“Perfect!”

John shut off the engine, hopping out of the truck and tossing the keys to Bob. Bob caught them easily, nodding his head.

“Now Sam’ll get off my back.”   
“Sam?”

Bob nodded, motioning for John to follow him into the office. Linda waved at them from behind the desk, and John gave her a wink, laughing under his breath when her cheeks went red. John stopped at the door of the office, glancing around at the piles of papers and folders. Filing cabinets lined one of the walls, drawers unable to close all the way, bulging open. Bob shook his head, letting out a sigh.

“Linda’s tried to organize this shit for me, but …”

He shrugged his shoulders and walked to the desk, moving papers around until he pulled out a thick folder. John’s eyebrows went up and Bob let out a laugh.

“Samuel’s a good, steady customer. Has been for years, as you can tell. That ol’ truck has been through it with Samuel and his girls.”

John put his hands in his pockets and Bob shook his head again.

“I forget you’re new to town. We get along so good, I feel like you been here forever.”

John smiled.

“Thank you, sir.”   
“You ain’t in the military anymore, son. You can call me ‘Bob,’ you know.”

John nodded, and Bob continued, giving a quiet groan as he sat down in the chair behind his desk.

“Samuel married Deanna Henry just out of high school. Couple years later, they had Mary. She’s a beautiful girl, but … She’s got a tough shell. Hard to crack.”   
“Mary Campbell?”

Bob nodded, looking up from his desk. John smiled.

“She was here when I arrived in town, talking to Linda. That was her dad’s truck?”

Bob smiled.

“Yep. She give you a warm welcome?”   
“Not hardly.”

Bob laughed.

“Yeah, that’s our Mary. She’s not too trusting, but if she lets you in, she’s a real sweet girl. She and Linda have been friends ever since nursery school.”

John smiled, and Bob raised an eyebrow, a smile crossing his face.

“You know, the boys in this town? Mary has chewed them up and spit them out. You, though … Seems like you could handle a little spitfire like Mary.”

John blinked, dark eyes looking over to Bob.

“Oh, Mr. Conner—Bob—I’m not looking for—“

Bob let out a laugh.

“Oh, I know that. You’re young. Still got some wild oats to sow, I’m sure.”

John laughed, shaking his head. Bob stood up from the chair, then walked around the desk, holding out his hand for John to shake.

“I’m real glad you found this place, John. The job’s yours, if you want it.”   
“Oh, Mr.—Bob, I do. I—I do want it.”

Bob laughed.

“Do you have a place to stay?”

John and Bob walked out of the office, over to the coat rack, where John grabbed his leather jacket, slipping it over his shoulders. He turned back and nodded to Bob.

“I’m renting a room at the motel over—“   
“Near the town line?”

John nodded, and Bob sighed, shaking his head.

“Oh, son. No, that won’t do. Let me talk to Norma and we’ll see what we can find for you.”   
“Bob, you don’t have to—“   
“I know I don’t have to, I want to. I can’t have any employee of mine living out of a motel. Not after seeing you do wonders on that truck. I want you to stick around for a while.”

John smiled, feeling a little sheepish, lifting a hand to rub at the back of his neck. Bob laughed to himself.

“Tell you what. I’ll call Norma, tell her to prepare one more for dinner.”   
“Bob, you don’t have to—“   
“Damn it, son. I know I don’t. But we’ve got a long day ahead of us tomorrow. Gary Mason’s bringing in his Chevy, and if it’s like it usually is …”

Bob shook his head.

“I’ll need you at 110%, and that means a better meal than some burger over at the diner.”

John looked down, a smile on his face. Bob nodded.

“Come on. Norma’s going to love you. And tonight's pot roast night. You're in for a treat.”

* * *

 

Two days later, after the sun went down on Friday night, John found himself “escorting” Linda to a bonfire at the Whitmore farm. Linda was infatuated with him—he knew that for a fact—but he did not feel the same way about her. He wasn’t sure why. She was a pretty girl. Talkative, but most girls were. For some reason, his mind kept drifting back to a blonde that was as cuddly as a porcupine.

John locked the station wagon—Bob had given him the keys with an urge to be careful and have Linda home by eleven—and pocketed the keys. Linda waited for him to open her door, and she climbed out, smoothing down her skirt and pulling her sweater closer around her.

“Little chilly tonight.”

John smiled.

“Good thing we’ll be surrounded by fire in a minute.”

Linda laughed, looping her arm through his. She waved at a group of people, naming them off one-by-one, and John pasted a smile on his face, shaking hands and introducing himself over and over again. As a new group of people walked up, John swallowed, turning to Linda and giving her a smile.

“I am dying for something to drink. Do you know if—“   
“There should be some things in the barn. Oh, John?”

He turned to her, blinking once, and she leaned in close, whispering to him.

“If you find any beer, we need to leave. Daddy will flip if he finds out we were anywhere near alcohol.”

John nodded, pushing a smile on his face. He turned away from her, walking into the barn and giving a sigh before he shook his head.

“Beer. Seriously? I had a beer with breakfast in ‘Nam. The whole damn company did, but ‘Daddy’ would flip if she was near it?”

John shook his head again, glancing at a table set up with coffee, tea, a pitcher of water, and bottles of cola. John reached out for a bottle, letting out a sigh, trying to twist the top off the cola, dropping his hand and shaking it out.

“Damn it.”

He heard a giggle above him and he whirled around, looking up, letting out a breath.

“How long have you been up there?”

Mary Campbell smiled, swinging her legs off of the edge of the loft.

“Long enough to discover that you talk to yourself.”

John glanced to the side, walking over to the ladder and climbing up. Mary sat back and watched him, and when he got to the top of the ladder, she held a hand up.

“Exposed boards. Unfinished area back there.”

John let out a quiet laugh, and one slender eyebrow raised.

“Something funny?”

John nodded, carefully making his way over to sit by Mary.

“Three days ago, if looks could kill, you would have lit me on fire and warmed your hands by the flames.”

Mary pursed her lips and nodded her head.

“I’m not very trusting of people.”   
“Yet you let me up here because …”

Mary reached over, taking the bottle from John’s hand, popping the top off with the ring she wore on her right hand. John blinked, and she smiled as she handed the cola back to him. He blinked at her, and she let out another giggle.

“You needed some help, and I’m comfy up here.”   
“It’s freezing in here.”  
“Beats being out there with all of them.”

John took a sip of the soda, looking out over the barn.

“What’s so bad about being out there?”

Mary snorted, leaning back on her elbows.

“They’re normal.”   
“And you’re not?”

She shook her head.

“Not at all. Not like them.”

She let out a sigh, looking down at her jean-clad legs and the sneakers she wore on her feet. John followed her gaze, but looked over at his own jeans, and down to his work boots.

“Yeah, neither am I.”

She glanced over to him, meeting his eyes, and he gave her a smile.

“So… Why are you so untrusting of people?”   
“Product of my raising. Apparently, my mother says, I am the spitting image of my father.”  
“The one who came and picked up the truck today?”

Mary met his eyes again, and John smiled.

“I said, ‘Hello, sir. I’m John Winchester. I helped fix your truck.’ And he said—and I quote—‘Huh.’”

Mary let her head fall back as she laughed.

“Yeah, that was him.”

John nodded, smiling around the lip of his bottle.

“Your mom’s right. You are the spitting image of him.”

Mary pushed his shoulder, and John let out a laugh. Mary sat up, shaking her long, blonde hair out. She had half of it pulled back, showcasing her pale skin, plump lips tinted with just a bit of lipstick. John couldn’t help himself from staring at her, and then, he couldn’t take his eyes off of her. Mary looked down at the floor of the barn, taking in a breath and letting it out slowly.

“So, who did you come here with?”

John sighed, shrugging out of his jacket.

“Linda Conner.”

Mary nodded, a small smile crossing her face.

“She likes you, you know.”   
“Yeah, I know.”   
“Do you like her?”

John smiled, reaching around to drape his jacket over Mary’s shoulders.

“She’s a very nice girl. Cute, but …”   
“But?”

Mary slowly moved her head around to look at him, and he reached out, gently touching a piece of her hair, tucking it behind her ear.

“But, she’s not the one I find myself thinking about when a free moment crosses my mind.”

Green eyes went wide, and Mary blinked.

“Who—who’s that one?”

John smiled.

“Why don’t you think about it for a while? Maybe it’ll come to you.”

Mary just blinked, and he couldn’t help the smile on his face. Maybe she wasn’t as prickly as she’d seemed. John moved back, taking his cola and drinking the last of it. He stood up, brushing himself off, glancing down at Mary.

“It’s getting late.”

Mary nodded.

“I should probably take Linda home now.”  
“Oh yeah?”

John nodded.

“Maybe I’ll see you around?”

Mary let out a laugh.

“Lawrence isn’t as big as you’re giving it credit. I’ll see you around.”

John smiled, nodding his head, and he carefully made his way to the ladder, turning back and slowly making his way down.

“Hey John?”

He stopped at the bottom of the ladder, looking up to see Mary sitting on her knees, looking down at him. He smiled at the look of his jacket on her, way too big for her small frame. She gave him a small smile.

“Maybe you can find your way to the diner Monday morning?”

John smiled back, nodding his head.

“Yeah, I … I’ll see if I can do that.”

Mary sat back, biting her lip.

“Okay, then.”

John nodded slowly.

“Well, okay, then.”

He turned and walked out of the barn, never seeing Mary sit back, pull his jacket tighter around her and take in a deep breath.

He made his way to the bonfire, and Linda stood up, brushing off her skirt.

“There you are. I was thinking you got lost or something.”   
“Linda, I think I need to take you home.”

Concern crossed her face.

“Are you feeling all right?”

John sighed.

“I’m feeling just fine, Linda.”

She stared at him, until a soft look crossed her face.

“Oh.”   
“I’m sorry. I just—“   
“No, it’s … It’s all right.”

She turned away from him, gathering the sweater she’d taken off when the fire had gotten too warm. She slid it over her shoulders, pulling her hair from the neck, then glanced to him.

“Did you lose your jacket, John?”

He glanced down, patting his chest, and smiled.

“Guess I did.”


	3. Cupid's Got His Work Cut Out For Him

It wasn’t anything abnormal to see John Winchester sitting at a booth by himself at the diner. He usually came in for breakfast, because the only thing he knew how to make was coffee, and he couldn’t do that very well.

Monday morning, though, he ate breakfast alone.

He stayed at the diner as long as he could, feeling like a complete fool, finally tossing some bills onto the table and walking outside. It was cold, and he didn’t have his jacket. The thought of that made a sneer cross his face, and he shook his head as he shoved his hands into his pockets and walked towards the garage.

Once he got his damn jacket back, he was done. Mary Campbell could just be her little anti-social self all she wanted. John was washing his hands of her. He stepped into the office of the garage, rubbing his hands together and blowing into them.

“Lose your coat, son?”

John smiled at Bob, nodding his head. Bob shook his head.

“Too damn cold around here to be going around without a coat. Oh, and Norma and I were talking the other night. She doesn’t like the thought of you riding around on that motorcycle in the cold.”   
“I’m all right with it, Bob. I like the cold, actually. Nice change of pace from … over there.”

Realization came over him, and Bob nodded his head.

“You still need to find you a coat, though.”

John smiled.

“Yes, sir. I’ll work on that.”

Bob nodded again, turning to walk into his office. He sighed, lifting a hand to push through the little hair he had on his head.

“Oh, John. We got Samuel Campbell’s truck to work on again.”

John lifted his head.

“Again?”

Bob nodded, opening a file and flipping through it.

“Yeah, he went down to Topeka this past weekend, got messed up real bad. The truck’s a mess, but Samuel’s even worse off.”

John swallowed.

“Is—is he all right?”

Bob sighed.

“Hard to say. Samuel’s a stubborn one, and he wouldn’t stay in the hospital. Even Deanna couldn’t get him to stay. So he’s at home, and Deanna and Mary are watching over him.”

John felt like a complete ass. Bob turned around, getting a look at the other man.

“John?”

Dark eyes looked over to him, blinking once.

“You all right, son?”

John blinked again, nodding his head.

“Yes, sir. I should … I should get to work.”

Bob nodded.

“Samuel’s truck’s already in the bay, if you want to take a swing at it.”

John nodded, turning and walking away. Bob turned to face his filing cabinets again, a soft smile crossing his face. He nodded once, walking over and picking up the phone, dialing a familiar number.

“Yes, this is Bob Conner. … I’m just fine. How are you? … You sure? And—… Well, good. Listen, there’s a reason for this call. Have you got a minute?”

* * *

 

John was still drying off his hands when he walked into the office around lunchtime. His mind was coming back online, after he’d shut it off to focus on his work, and he was still trying to figure out how to handle the mess he’d found himself in. The mess being, of course, worrying about a pretty blonde who could roast him with one word from her pretty mouth.

He came to a stop when he saw her sitting behind Bob’s desk.

The papers that usually littered the desktop were now in separate stacks, with paperweights holding them down. The filing cabinets—well, at least one of them, was shut completely, and Mary was going through the files from one of the others at the moment. She looked up, meeting his eyes, sitting back and letting out a breath.

“Hello, John.”

He blinked.

“Mary.”

She moved her fingers over the files, sliding one out and placing it at the top of her stack. John shook his head, dropping the napkin he was using to dry his hands into the wastebasket.

“Mary, what are you doing here?”

She didn’t look up as she spoke.

“Mr. Conner called my mom, said he needed some help up here. He asked if she’d send me down for a few days and organize his office for him.”

John nodded slowly, and Mary flicked her gaze up to him for a moment, before going back to the files in her hands. John let out a sigh, stepping forward.

“Listen, I heard about your dad, and—“   
“John, I’m sorry, but I’ve got a lot of work to do, all right?”

John smiled, holding up his hands and taking a step back.

“Right. Well, this is the time I go to lunch, so.”

Mary nodded, setting the stack of files on the desk in front of her, walking around to pull open a drawer, taking an armful of files out. John watched her walk back and sit behind the desk, flipping through the files.

“Would you like me to bring you something back from the diner?”

Mary blinked, raising her head. John just looked at her, until she blinked again, shaking her head.

“No, I … I’m okay.”

John nodded, and turned around, walking out of the office. Mary stood up and walked over to the window, crossing her arms over her stomach as she watched him walked across the street, hands in his pockets, shoulders hunched over against the cold. She sighed, turning around and looking at the coat rack in the corner, where a leather jacket hung on one of the hooks.

* * *

 

“Knock, knock.”

Mary lifted her head, smiling when she saw John standing in front of her, holding a paper bag in each hand. He stepped into the office, shaking his head at the sight and walked over to the desk, setting a bag on it.

“There was a special at the diner. Buy two, get a free slice of pie.”

Mary looked down at her hands, a soft smile on her face. After a moment, she lifted her eyes again.

“You shouldn’t have done that.”

John shrugged his shoulders.

“You’ve got to eat, and I guess I can choke down a slice of pie.”

Mary bit her lip, before she lifted her eyes to him again.

“I do like pie.”

John laughed, pulling a chair close to the desk, opening his bag and motioning for Mary to do the same. She smiled at him, shaking her head as she followed his lead. She pulled out her sandwich, unwrapping it from the napkin it was wrapped in and John’s hand gently touched her arm. She lifted her eyes, and an embarrassed look was on his face, but he was trying hard not to let it show. Mary bit back her smile and John sighed.

“I didn’t … That sandwich has mayo and mustard, and this one just has mayo. We can switch, if—“   
“No, it’s … I like mustard. Thank you.”

John let out a breath of relief, and Mary smiled.

“You don’t?”

John looked up, chewing the bite he'd just taken. Mary let out a quiet laugh.

“You don’t like mustard?”

John wrinkled his nose, shaking his head, and she laughed again.

“So you would have eaten this sandwich that you don’t even like?”

John smiled.

“Just for you.”

Mary’s cheeks went pink, and she took a bite of her sandwich. John just smiled, taking another big bite. They ate in silence for a while, until John broke out the slice of apple pie. Mary smiled, and he handed her a fork, waiting until she’d taken the first bite.

“Good?”   
“Mm-hmm.”

John let out a quiet laugh, and Mary covered her mouth with her hand, laughing quietly. When the slice of pie was gone, John stood up, gathering their trash and dumping it into the wastebasket.

“Thank you.”

John rubbed his hands together, turning back to see Mary stand up from the desk. He followed her to the bathroom, standing outside the door as she washed her hands. He wasn’t really paying attention, not like he should have been, and he started to walk in just as she was walking out.

“Oh!”

Mary bumped into him, standing in his space, hands resting against his chest. John moved his hands to hold her arms, steadying her, and their eyes met. Time seemed to come to a stop, and Mary blinked, eyes flashing down to John’s mouth before meeting his eyes again. John leaned forward, both of them slowly closing their eyes, when the bell on the front door rang.

Mary stepped back, hands falling to her sides. John set his hands on his hips, hanging his head, letting out a long breath. Mary stepped around him, looking at the customer who’d just walked in the door. There was no one behind the desk. Mary took a shaky breath, lifting her hand, resting it on John’s shoulder just for a moment. He lifted his head, and she smiled at him, dropping her hand as she walked to the desk.

“Hi. Can I help you with something?”

John pushed the door shut behind him, walking over and gripping the edges of the sink while he hung his head and breathed. He turned the water on, washing his hands, then splashing cold water on his face, holding onto the sink again.

What the hell was wrong with him? He was John Winchester, for God’s sake. Girls did not do this to him. If anything, he did this to them. For twenty years, that’s how it’s been. John was a heartbreaker from way back.

Until green eyes looked his way.

He lifted a hand, pushing it through his hair, staring at his reflection in the mirror. He had to get back to work. He wiped his hands off and opened the door, walking out of the bathroom and seeing Linda sitting at the front desk. She nodded to him with a soft smile, and went back to typing. John closed his eyes.

He’d just seen Mary no less than ten minutes ago. How in the hell was it possible that he was disappointed she wasn’t behind the desk anymore? How could he miss her right now?

He shook his head, pushing the door open and walking to the garage, turning his mind off again as he grabbed his tools and went back to work on Samuel Campbell’s disaster of a truck.

* * *

 

Mary dropped a pile of folders into one of the boxes the boy from the grocery store had brought her. She stood up, pushing her hands against her lower back, letting out a quiet groan. She shook out her shoulders, going to grab another pile and dropping it into the box. This was going to be a tougher job than she thought. She grabbed one more stack, dropping them in the box, and shook her head. She moved to flip off the little lamp on the desk and turned to walk around it, to get her purse. She gasped, laying a hand over her heart.

“You scared me.”

John smiled as he stepped away from where he’d been leaning up against the doorframe.

“Sorry. I didn’t want to interrupt.”

Mary shook her head, a smile on her face.

“No one ever sneaks up on me. I don’t know how you did.”  
“Well, I learned a lot in ‘Nam.”

Mary met his eyes, nodding slowly.

“I bet you did.”

John glanced at the floor, then put a smile on his face.

“So. You coming back tomorrow?”

Mary held out a hand.

“Look at this place. I have to. These filing cabinets are a disaster.”

John laughed.

“You’ve done wonders already. I mean, I couldn’t even see the carpet first time Bob brought me in here. And now he’s got a desk.”

Mary laughed, shaking her head.

“Mr. Conner’s a nice guy, but his organizing skills …”   
“He doesn’t have any.”

Mary laughed again, and John couldn’t help the smile on his face. After a moment, he cleared his throat.

“You know, if you need a ride or some help with anything…”

Mary nodded, a soft smile on her face.

“Thank you, but if my mother saw me on that motorcycle of yours…”

Mary laughed, and John smiled.

“Right. Well, I mean, if you and your mom need anything. I mean, I know your dad’s kind of out of commission right now, and I’d—“   
“We’re fine, John.”

He met her eyes, noticing that the smile was gone from her face now. Something was in her eyes, some emotion he couldn’t name, but something he knew would haunt him.

“Mary, I—“   
“I need to get home.”   
“Wait. Don’t leave like this.”

She stopped when his hand gently wrapped around her arm, trying to stop her as she tried to walk by him. She didn’t look over at him, and he moved closer to her.

“You can talk to me, you know.”

Mary let out a humorless laugh.

“You wouldn’t understand.”   
“Try me.”

Mary’s eyes flicked down, and then she closed them, turning her head and opening them slowly as she looked at him.

“My father went to Topeka this weekend.”

John nodded.

“He … was in a terrible accident. He could have died.”   
“I know, Mary. I’m working on the truck.”

Mary nodded, looking down and swallowing, then looking back to him.

“I was supposed to go with him.”

John’s eyes went wide.

“Mary.”   
“I was supposed to go with him, and I stayed home to go to a stupid bonfire.”

John shook his head.

“This wasn’t your fault.”

She let out another laugh.

“I go with him all the time. I have since I was a little girl. Nothing like this has ever happened. The one time I don’t go—“   
“That truck is … Mary, if you’d gone with him, you’d have been killed.”

She shook her head, and John reached out, taking hold of her arms.

“The passenger side of that truck is completely smashed in. If anyone had been sitting there … You’d have died, Mary.”

His hands were strong on her arms. His grip didn’t hurt, but it was fierce.

“Why do you care?”

John blinked.

“Wh—what?”   
“You don’t know me. You’ve met my dad one time, and neither of us have been all that nice to you. Why do you care about me?”

John stared at her, deep into those green eyes, and he shook his head, letting go of her arms.

“I don’t know. I just do.”

He stepped back, pushing his hand through his hair again. Mary stared at the ground, swallowing hard. John sighed, shaking his head.

“I’ll see you tomorrow. Be careful going home.”

John went to put his hands in his pockets, prepared to walk out the door.

“John, wait.”

He did, closing his eyes at the sound of her voice. He slowly turned around, watching Mary walk over to the coat rack, pulling his jacket down. He watched her take a deep breath, then walk back over to him. She smiled, holding the jacket out to him.

“Thank you … for letting me use this the other night.”

John smiled, nodding his head.

“Do you need it? I’m fine without a coat.”

Mary let out a quiet laugh.

“I have a coat, John.”

He sighed.

“I know you do, I just—“

He went still when she stepped forward, laying her hand on his shoulder, gently pressing her lips to his cheek.

“Thank you. For wanting to take care of me.”

She turned from him, sliding her purse on her shoulder, and walking to the door.

“I’ll see you in the morning. Have a good night, John.”

He stood there, rooted to the floor as she walked away. Only when he heard the bell above the door give a quiet ring did he turn around, one hand gripping tightly to his jacket, the other drifting up to brush against his cheek.

* * *

 

Mary walked in the front door, slipping her jacket off her shoulders and hanging it on a hook near the door. She hung her purse up beside it, then walked into the kitchen. Deanna turned back from the stove, a smile on her face.

“Hi there. How was your first day of work?”

Mary smiled.

“I have my work cut out for me. Mr. Conner’s a great man, but his organizing …”

Deanna let out a laugh.

“Norma and I have talked about that man’s office for years now. I’m sure you’re doing wonders for him. I just hope he doesn’t sneak in and ‘fix’ anything for you.”

Mary let out a laugh, smile drifting from her face as her father slowly made his way into the kitchen.

“Thought I heard the door.”

Samuel hobbled over to a chair, sitting down with a groan. He had a wide bandage wrapped around his head, and scratches all across his face. Nearly every rib was bruised, two were broken, and he had a bad ankle sprain. Both of his wrists were strained, one of his teeth had been knocked out, and he had seventeen stitches in a cut on his arm. Deanna walked around to the table, carrying two bowls of soup. She set one down in front of Samuel, and the other across from him. He picked up a spoon, blowing on the liquid before putting the spoon in his mouth. He nodded to his wife, who went back to the stove, and Samuel turned to Mary.

“Your mother said Bob Conner called, offered you a job.”  
“Yes, sir. Organizing his office.”

Samuel nodded, lifting his spoon again.

“Nice civilian work.”   
“Samuel.”

He shook his head.

“No, it’s good. She needs a good job. Clearly, she’s not cut out to be a hunter.”   
“Samuel!”

He held out a hand.

“I’m just saying, if high school bonfires are more important than saving lives—“  
“It was one thing, Dad! One time, and I’m sorry. All right? I am so sorry that I didn’t go with you. Next time I’ll—“   
“Oh, no.”

Samuel shook his head.

“There won’t be a next time. I won’t try and bother you with such trivial things as trying to save innocent people. No, you can go ahead and do whatever you want, Mary.”   
“Samuel—“   
“End of discussion. Deanna, can you bring me a cup of coffee, please?”

Mary stared at her father, green eyes wide and quickly filling with tears. She nodded her head, turning and walking from the kitchen. Her mother stepped after her, watching as Mary grabbed her coat from the hook near the door.

“Mary, sweetheart.”

Mary shook her head, throwing open the front door and running down the steps, trying and failing to choke back sobs.

“Mary!”

Deanna stood against the front door, leaning against it and letting out a sigh.


	4. Two of A Kind

John had a hard time trying to sleep at night. He knew it was residual stuff left over from his time in the military, but he tried not to focus too much on that. He just got out of bed, threw on some clothes and went for a walk.

It was downright cold in Kansas at night. It had never been cold in Vietnam, so the almost icy air he breathed in was a stark contrast to his memories, and he closed his eyes. He took in a deep breath, trying to let the cold seep into his bones, rooting him in Kansas instead of the jungle.

He stepped down from the front porch of the duplex he was renting, slowly and quietly making his way into the night. He walked for a while, watching and listening. There weren’t too many sounds, other than the buzz of the streetlights and the occasional bark of a dog.

Until he walked closer to the little park he’d discovered a few weeks ago on a late-night walk.

He let his hands fall from his pockets, walking off of the paved road and onto the little gravel path leading into the park. The gravel crunched beneath his boots, and he followed the noise he’d heard, which was accompanied now, he could tell, by a quiet squeak. He stepped off the grass, stopping when he saw the swingset, and the blonde-haired girl slowly swinging back and forth, foot dragging through the gravel beneath the swing.

“Mary?”

She glanced back, eyes wide, until she noticed who it was. Her face fell, and John realized what exactly the sound was that he’d been hearing.

She was crying.

He didn’t really think anymore. He jogged over to the swings, kneeling in front of Mary’s swing and laying his hands on her knees.

“Mary, hey. Hey, what is it? What’s wrong?”

She shook her head, pushing his hands off of her, but kneeling down beside him, wrapping her arms around him. John easily laced his arms around her, and she rested her head against his shoulder. He pushed a hand through her hair, whispering to her, trying to calm her down. After a few minutes, John smiled as Mary sniffled against his chest. He moved slightly, taking her hands and pulling them to his sides, underneath his jacket.

“Your hands are freezing.”

Mary sniffled, moving just a bit closer to him. John gently ran his hands up and down her arms.

“You want to talk about it?”

Mary sighed again, shaking her head. She sat back from him, lifting her hands to wipe her cheeks.

“It’s just my dad.”

Tears welled up in her eyes again, and she sniffled, letting out a quiet laugh when John moved next to her, sliding his arm over her shoulders and pulling her to his side. Mary moved to rest her head on his shoulder, smiling when he moved his head atop hers. John covered her hands with his, and Mary looked down at their hands, turning hers over and lacing her fingers through his.

She couldn’t really understand it. No guy had ever made her feel like this. Well, there was James Carpenter, but she’d been in sixth grade and all the girls had liked him. He’d been a senior, and left Lawrence as soon as he could. John, though …

She hadn’t liked him on sight. She’d actually thought he’d been full of himself, the way he smiled and winked, using his obviously good looks to his advantage. And then … Then she’d seen that he was actually a nice guy. Really nice. He’d given her his jacket, bought her lunch, and now he was holding her on the playground she used to play on when she was a kid.

Where she’d killed a ghoul on her thirteenth birthday.

She sighed, leaning back from him. He wouldn’t let her hand go, and she was thankful for that. Mary turned her head to look at him, blinking twice, and letting a smile cross her face.

“Can I ask you a question?”

John smiled.

“Sure.”   
“It might seem silly.”

John’s smile grew.

“Try me.”

Mary let out a quiet laugh, then leaned closer to him.

“Do you believe in ghosts?”

John raised an eyebrow, then let out a laugh.

“Ghosts?”

Mary lifted a shoulder.

“It’s just a question. Do you believe in them?”  
“Like can I see dead people?”

Mary shrugged, and John shook his head.

“No, I—I don’t guess I do.”

Mary pursed her lips.

“What about vampires?”   
“Like Dracula? He’s not real, honey.”

Mary glanced at the ground.

“Right.”   
“Do you believe in them?”

Mary lifted green eyes to John, and he smiled.

“Do you believe in ghosts and vampires, pretty Mary?”

She smiled, feeling a flush fill her cheeks.

“Yeah. I do.”   
“Ghosts and vampires?”   
“You never know what might be out there.”

It was an all-out lie. Definitely not one of her better ones, but … John reached over and touched a piece of hair on her forehead, gently pushing it out of her face.

“Maybe, if you help me, I could learn to believe.”   
“In ghosts and vampires?”

Mary smiled, and the smile on John’s face was full of what looked like hurt. He reached out and took her hand again.

“In anything.”

Mary blinked, and John blew out a breath, looking down at their hands. After a beat of silence, John looked up, giving her a smile.

“It’s late.”

Mary nodded.

“What are you doing out so late, Ms. Campbell?”

Mary looked down at their hands, letting out a sigh.

“Can I tell you something and you just not say anything?”

John waited, and when she finally raised her head, he smiled, then nodded. Mary nodded back to him, taking in a breath and letting it out.

“My dad blames me for what happened this weekend.”

John’s eyes widened, but he didn’t say a word. Mary nodded, then went on.

“I mean, he’s got every right to, you know? I go on these hun—trips with him all the time, and nothing like this has ever happened. The one time I don’t go, he almost dies. So he should blame me. It’s my fault, and I—“  
“Mary, stop.”

She looked up, and John sighed.

“I’m sorry. I couldn’t … You can’t blame yourself.”   
“Why not?”   
“Because you’re a kid.”

Mary snorted.

“You’re like a year older than I am.”   
“And I’ve fought in a war. Sorry, sweetheart, but I’m not a kid. I’m not like you.”

Mary watched as he stood up, wiping his hands on his jeans. He shook his head, walking back over to the swings, laying one hand on the pole, hanging his head.

Maybe they were more alike than Mary had thought.

She stood up, dusting her bottom off, sticking her hands in the pockets of her jackets as she slowly made her way towards him. She’d had this thought, just a few minutes ago, that maybe they should just leave each other alone. They obviously had two very different lives. He knew nothing of the monsters that were out there in the dark, the monsters she’d spent her entire life killing.

But the more she thought about it …

He was only nineteen, maybe twenty years old, but he’d fought in a war. She was nearly eighteen, but still fighting in her own war. They were both soldiers. He obviously was haunted by a past, but if she really thought about it, so was she. The things she’d had to do, sometimes just to survive…

Mary walked over to stand in front of him, watching as he slowly lifted his head, dark eyes watching her. She smiled at him, and he shook his head, letting out a quiet laugh.

“No one has ever affected me the way you do.”

Mary’s smile grew.

“I can say the same thing about you.”

That haunted look came back into John’s eyes, and he forced a smile.

“I’m no good for you, Mary.”

She blinked, stepping closer to him.

“Why don’t you let me be the judge of that?”

John sighed, keeping his ground as she stepped closer to him. He shook his head.

“I’ve done things. Horrible things.”   
“I’ve done my share of bad things, John.”   
“You don’t understand.”  
“Maybe you’re the one who doesn’t understand.”

John let out a laugh.

“Mary.”

She smiled, standing in front of him, looking up at him.

“John.”

John moved forward, his chest mere inches from hers. His voice went husky.

“Mary.”

She swallowed, holding his eyes, her voice barely a whisper.

“John.”  
_“Mary.”_

He lifted his hands, cupping her face between them, and she sucked in a breath at the warmth in his touch. She blinked, and he shook his head, but lowered it, until his lips touched hers.

Mary was expecting fireworks. Some kind of explosion, the way the people in those movies always talked about. She did not expect the slow burn that seemed to start deep in her belly and slowly spread out across her body. She didn’t expect this feeling to rage through her veins, something she didn’t have a name for.

Well, she did, but she didn’t realize what it was until much later.

_ Need.  _

John pulled back, opening his eyes and watching Mary stay still for a moment, before those beautiful green eyes slowly blinked open. He kept his hands on her face, and she closed her eyes again, moving her head to the side, leaning into his touch. John’s thumb traced her lips, until he bent his head to kiss her once more. When she blinked her eyes open again, a soft smile was on his face.

“You should run. Get the hell away from me while you still can.”

A smile slowly made its way across her face, and Mary moved her hand to his neck, pulling him down and fitting her mouth to his. After a moment, she pulled back, hand still on his neck, fingers brushing through his hair.

“I could tell you the same thing.”

John smiled, pulling her to him. Mary smiled as she slid her arms around him, under his jacket, warming her hands in the warmth of his body, and he let out a laugh.

“Can I walk you home, Ms. Campbell?”

Mary turned her head to the side, her forehead brushing his chin.

“It’s late, John. You should go home. Go to bed.”   
“It is late. Which is why I’d like to walk you home, make sure you get in okay.”

Mary snorted.

“I can take care of myself.”

John let out a laugh.

“I have no doubt about that, sweetheart.”

Mary smiled as he leaned back and looked at her. She nodded, and John laced his fingers through hers, pulling her close to his side as they began to walk. Mary whispered directions to him, letting him lead.

“You know, it is pretty late. What are you doing up? And at the park?”

John looked down at his feet as he spoke.

“I, uh … I have a hard time sleeping.”   
“Like insomnia?”

John sighed.

“Like … I forget where I am. That I’m here in Kansas and not in ‘Nam anymore.”   
“Oh.”

John nodded.

“So I take walks sometimes. I found that park one night, but I’ve never been into it until tonight.”

Mary smiled, sidling up closer to him.

“Well, I’m glad you came in tonight.”

John squeezed her hand, moving to kiss her temple.

“Me, too.”


	5. And Before Too Long, I Fell In Love With Her

Two weeks went by in a flash of time. Things at home weren’t quite as frosty between Samuel and Mary, but they kept their distance from each other. Deanna was mediator, a job she didn’t particularly care for, but one that she had done many, many times before. Samuel and Mary were too much alike.

On a cloudy night, Deanna watched Mary leave the house with a smile on her face, walking down the street with her hands in the pockets of her jacket. Deanna walked over to the doorway to the living room, seeing Samuel sitting in his chair, reading the newspaper. He looked up, seeing her standing there, and nodded.

“Sounds almost like an electrical storm up in Kansas City. Might need to look closer.”

Deanna nodded, then sighed.

“You might need to look closer at this family.”

Samuel looked up again.

“What?”

Deanna sighed again.

“Open your eyes, Samuel.”

Samuel sighed as he set the paper aside.

“This about Mary?”   
“What do you think?”

Samuel sighed again, lifting a hand to rub at his eyes. Deanna crossed her arms over her chest.

“Don’t you think you’ve punished her enough?”

Samuel looked at his wife.

“I’m not trying to punish her.”

Deanna let out a laugh.

“Please. Twenty-three years, and you think I don’t know you? You’ve iced her since we got you home from that accident. The accident that was not her fault, no matter how the two of you try to make it that way.”   
“Deanna. I have never blamed her for—“  
“No, she’s done plenty of that herself. And you haven’t once tried to discourage her from it.”

Samuel watched as Deanna walked into the living room, one hand on her mouth. She dropped her hand, crossing her arm back over her chest, then looked at him, blinking her eyes.

“You’re losing her.”

Samuel raised an eyebrow.

“What are you talking about?”   
“That boy.”   
“What boy?”  
“The mechanic Bob Conner hired. He and Mary have been going out for almost two weeks now.”

Samuel sat up, shaking his head.

“What the hell are you talking about?”

Deanna took a step towards him.

“I’m talking about the fact that this is the one boy Mary has shown even a fleeting bit of interest in, and from what Norma Conner tells me, he thinks she walks on water.”

Samuel went to open his mouth, and Deanna shook her head.

“You wanted to punish her, to push her away? You’ve done it. You’ve pushed her right to him. And it wouldn’t surprise me one bit if he whisked her right away from here. She would go. God knows she’d jump at the chance to get out of the life.”   
“She can’t get out of the life, Deanna.”

Deanna tilted her head to the side, blinking her eyes.

“Really? That isn’t what you’ve shown her for nearly the past month.”

Samuel sat back in his chair, and Deanna nodded her head.

“Yes. Exactly. Now you listen to me, Samuel Campbell. You fix this, and you fix it now, before I lose my little girl.”

She turned and walked out of the living room, up the stairs, and Samuel flinched when he heard their bedroom door slam.

* * *

 

At the diner in town, Mary sipped a chocolate milkshake, watching John as he ate his burger with one hand. His other hand was safely, warmly holding hers. Mary couldn’t help but smile, and she reached over to steal one of his French fries. John shook his head, letting out a laugh.

“I told you I’d get you some if you wanted them.”   
“Yours taste so good, though.”

John smiled, taking another bite, then sipping his milkshake. Vanilla. Mary moved her fingers and John waited until she settled again, and he gave her hand a squeeze. Mary moved to prop her head on her other hand and let out a sigh. John smiled, picking up a napkin and wiping his mouth.

“What’s on your mind, pretty girl?”

Mary gave him a smile, then shrugged her shoulders.

“I … I think my mom knows about us.”

John pursed his lips and nodded.

“You think she’s mad?”

Mary’s smile softened.

“No, I don’t think so.”   
“Did I do something wrong? I mean, I’ve never—“

Mary gave his hand a gentle squeeze, and John sighed. He lifted his head, catching her eye.

“I’ve never felt anything like this before. I’ve never met a girl I didn’t want to let go. But you …”

John shook his head.

“I think about letting you go and I get this … this panic. I mean, I know. It’s only been two weeks that we’ve been together like this, but I—shit. I’m freaking you out, aren’t I?”

Mary let out a laugh.

“It’s going to take a lot more than that to freak me out, John.”

She reached across the table, running her fingers through his hair, then laying her palm against his cheek.

“I’ve never felt anything for anybody. I mean, I love my parents. But anyone else …”

She shook her head, letting her hand fall, and John slipped her hand into his. She looked down at their hands, a soft smile crossing her face.

“I tried to keep my distance from you, but you just wouldn’t leave me alone.”

John let out a laugh at that.

“You were so prickly, so cool towards me. I couldn’t help but poke the bear.”

Mary pulled her hand from his, covering her mouth as she giggled.

“I am not a bear.”   
“Of course not. You are much scarier than a bear.”

Mary closed her eyes as she let her head fall back, a laugh muffled behind the teeth she kept together as she smiled. She looked at John again, and he couldn’t help but smile back at her. John squeezed her hand.

“Let’s get out of here.”

Mary nodded, and John pulled out his wallet, dropping a few bills on the table, grabbing his jacket off the back of his chair. He opened the door and let Mary walk ahead of him, and he walked up behind her, draping his jacket over her shoulders. She looked up at him and smiled, fingers coming up to brush along his. John put his hands in his pockets, walking beside her.

“So, what do you think about this: There’s a drive-in the next town over. They’re supposed to be playing that new movie … The Godfather or something? It’s supposed to be really good.”

John smiled.

“You want to go to the drive-in with my motorcycle?”

Mary smiled, pushing his side.

“No, silly. I was going to get a car for us. You know Mr. Conner would let you use one. All we have is the truck, and that would mean I’d have to talk to my dad, and that’s not happening.”

John sighed.

“You need to talk to him, Mare.”   
“He’s made his ideas very clear, John. I’m done trying to make him happy. I’ve done it for almost eighteen years, and it’s obviously not enough.”

John nodded, leaning over and pressing his lips to her forehead.

“Well, you make me happy.”

Mary’s cheeks flushed, and she looped her arm through his.

“You make me pretty happy, too.”

They were quiet on the rest of the walk, and when they were nearly to Mary’s house, John stopped, turning and taking her hands.

“I think I need to come in with you.”

Mary’s green eyes went wide, and John sighed.

“I mean to—to talk to your dad. I should have done that to begin with, you know?”   
“John, you don’t—“   
“I’m not asking his permission or anything. Well, I kind of am. But I get the feeling that you’ll do what you want, no matter what he says.”

Mary smiled.

“You’re right.”

John smiled at her, squeezing her hands.

“I just don’t want him thinking I’m trying to sneak around with you or something. Even if I’m a less than honorable guy, I don’t want him to think that.”   
“John.”

She lifted her hand, laying it against his cheek.

“You’re honorable. You’re one of the best men I’ve ever met.”

He closed his eyes, and Mary went onto her tiptoes, kissing him gently.

“If you insist on coming in, let’s go. Get it over with.”

John laughed, and neither one of them commented on how forced it was. He swallowed, holding tightly to her hand as he followed her up the front steps, coming to a hard stop when the door opened and her father stood there, a rather large gun in his hands. Mary rolled her eyes, letting go of John’s hand and walking forward.

“Are you kidding me? Dad.”   
“Mary, you go on inside.”   
“No. Put that stupid thing up. It doesn’t even have bullets.”

She shook her head.

“John, that was my great-grandfather’s gun. It’s an antique that doesn’t even work anymore. He’s just trying to intimidate you, so don’t let him.”

Mary shook her head, crossing her arms, watching as her father lowered the gun, a concerned look on his face. She rolled her eyes again, then glanced behind her.

“John?”

She let her arms fall by her sides, watching as John slowly made his way backwards, eyes wide and unseeing, entire body shaking.

“What’s wrong with him?”   
“John?”

_Screams. All he could hear were screams. All around him, men, women, children, animals, everyone was screaming. Pain. They were all in pain, pain that he’d caused, pain they’d all caused. Fire. The smell of burning flesh, bloodcurdling screams of pain. He held tight to his rifle, because that’s the only certain thing he could cling to right then._

“Mary, go get a cold towel.”   
“Dad, I—“   
“Now, Mary. Go!”

_Sorry. God, he was so sorry. He didn’t want to do this. This wasn’t what he’d wanted when he joined the Marines. He wanted to help people, not kill them. Sweat burned his eyes, or was that the tears? He was so hot, so tired, so, so very sorry._

“John? Can you hear me, son?”   
“Dad, he’s—“   
“Help me get him down.”

_Sometimes he’d wish he could remember how to pray. His mother had tried to teach him, but he’d always had something better to do. He missed her so badly. She hadn’t wanted him to enlist. Why hadn’t he listened to her?_

“Stay with him, Mary.”   
“What’s happening to him?”   
“I think he’s having a flashback. Talk to him. Help him come back.”

_He could hear his mother praying, for him, for his father. The bastard who’d left them, yet she still prayed for him. Was anyone listening? Who could be there to listen? Who could let something like this war happen? How could he be there? He was just a kid._

“Come on, John. Come back to me.”

_There was no such thing as angels. Hell was real, because he was neck-deep in it. Hell was actually a jungle in Vietnam. But angels … No. There wasn’t any way. But how could he hear an angel’s voice right now?_

“John?”

He blinked, feeling for the first time the cool cloth on his face, the gentle fingers sliding through his hair.

“You’re okay, John. You’re safe.”

_‘Safe?’ No, he was in a jungle. Hell on Earth. Safety was a long way away, back in—_

Kansas.

He blinked again, and the cool cloth moved to his neck. He shivered, and then he heard the voice again.

“There we go. Are you back with me? John?”

He blinked again, lifting his eyes, and realized what he thought had been the voice of an angel … had been just that.

Mary looked down at him, one hand carding through his hair, the other holding a cool cloth that she pressed against his skin. Tears sparkled on her cheeks in the dim light of the porch. She was on her knees, and John’s head was in her lap. His body was contorted, and the last of the shakes finally eased off.

“M—Mary?”

She smiled, nodding her head, continuing to push her fingers through his hair.

“I’m right here, John. Everything’s all right.”

He blinked again, letting out a long sigh. Mary shushed him gently, moving the cloth to press against his cheek.

“You’re okay, John.”   
“Mary.”

He moved to wrap his arms around her, pressing his face into her stomach. Mary closed her eyes at the new wave of tears, but wrapped her arms around him as best she could in her position. Her fingers slid through his hair and she let out a broken breath.

“I’m here, John. Everything’s okay. You’re all right. You’re safe.”

He tightened his hold on her, and she leaned down, pressing a kiss to the top of his head.

* * *

 

John finally pulled back, coming to sit up, moving where he could rest his back against the post on the porch. He pulled his knees up and sniffled, wiping his hands over his face. A cool cloth was pressed into his hands, and John laid it over his face, taking in a deep breath and letting it out slowly. After a minute or so, he lowered the cloth, sniffling again and lifting his head. Mary was sitting across from him, leaning against the other post on her porch. She gave him a small smile, and John sighed.

“I’m sorry about—“  
“Don’t—don’t apologize.”

He met her eyes, and she gave him another smile.

“You couldn’t help that. My dad shouldn’t have brought that gun out.”

John closed his eyes, shaking his head.

“That’s only happened like twice since I got back, but when it does, I can’t … I can’t do anything.”   
“I know. I could tell.”

John wiped his hand across his mouth, letting out a breath.

“I’m sorry you had to see it.”  
“Is that why you can’t sleep?”

He looked over to her, and she nodded to him.

“Does that happen?”

John swallowed.

“Not much. Usually it’s just a bad dream, and it takes me a minute to remember where I am when I wake up.”   
“’Usually’?”

John nodded, looking down at his feet.

“Sometimes it’s worse and I wake up screaming. A few times I’ve woken up in other places in the house, and I don’t remember how I got there.”

John shrugged his shoulders, looking down the porch steps.

“Well, I’m glad I was here for this.”  
“You shouldn’t have to deal with this.”  
“John.”   
“You shouldn’t.”  
“Well, too bad. Because I’m going to.”

He lifted tear-filled eyes, watching as Mary stood up, walking over and kneeling down in front of him. Her hand reached out, gently carding through his hair, and she gently, easily pressed her lips to his. After a moment, she leaned back, keeping her eyes closed, resting her forehead against his.

“I love you, John Winchester.”

He choked out a sob, squeezing his eyes shut, shaking his head.

“You shouldn’t. You deserve so much better. Mary, you—“   
“I love you. You, John. I love you.”

He reached out, taking her in his arms and pulling her close to him.

“I love you so much. Don’t leave me. Please.”   
“I’m not going anywhere. I promise.”

They stayed on the porch, wrapped up in each other, kissing every once in a while, until the front door opened again, and a throat was cleared. Mary sighed, leaning back from John’s arms, then standing up. John followed her, taking the hand she offered him, standing beside her and sliding his hand through hers. Samuel met the man’s eyes, seeing a steely determination there. He watched as his daughter squeezed this man’s hand, saw the determination give way to a sudden, fierce look of devotion. Samuel sighed, a sharp lance of pain settling in his heart. He cleared his throat again, and the man tore his eyes from Mary, locking eyes with Samuel again. He held out a hand.

“Mr. Campbell, my name is John Winchester.”

Samuel looked down at his hand, then met Mary’s eyes. He saw her raise an eyebrow, and Samuel sighed, setting his hand in John’s.

“Samuel Campbell. Why don’t you come in, son? We’ve got some things we need to discuss.”

Samuel turned and walked into the house, and Mary went up on her toes, pressing her lips to John’s cheek. She smiled at him, squeezing his hand, then gave it a tug, pulling him into the house behind her.


End file.
